


The Sum of Our Parts

by jupiterandjellyfish



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Too much fluff, i'm disgusted with myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterandjellyfish/pseuds/jupiterandjellyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is just a kind of intro and I'm not sure if I'll go anywhere with it, but I figured posting it might motivate me to write more.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Sum of Our Parts

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a kind of intro and I'm not sure if I'll go anywhere with it, but I figured posting it might motivate me to write more.

The man down the street has a dog that never stops barking and there's a women upstairs who tells strangers' fortunes for a living and the boy next door has too many freckles to count. And yet, Jean still tries to count them all. 

The first time Marco catches Jean counting, he stares curiously and asks the other boy, “What on earth are you doing?” They are fourteen and it's the middle of July and Jean reasons that the blush covering his face is caused by the heat, but he can't seem to look Marco in the eyes as he stammers out an answer.

“J-just counting.” The blush creeps up to his ears only now it's the heat of his frustration because he had tried so hard and he can't even say two words without stuttering.

“Counting what?” Marco asks, all wide eyes and honest curiosity.

“Your f-f-f-freckles,” Jean mumbles to his tattered converse, which have suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.

“Why?” There's no judgment in Marco's voice, but Jean still cringes at the question. 

He isn't good with words and even if he was, there's no way to explain that it's not just Marco's freckles. It's the number of stairs to his third floor apartment (36), the number of steps from his bed to the bathroom (13), how many cracks are in his ceiling (27), the number of tiles in his shower (83) – all these things and more and he doesn't know why, but he  _has_ to count them. And there's no way he could tell this to Marco because he's only known the other boy for the three months it's been since he moved in next-door to Jean; and even though they've become nearly inseparable and Marco has never once made fun of the halting way Jean speaks, Jean is still young and vulnerable and everything he's learned so far has taught him that his behavior is not what is considered “normal”. So, when Marco asks his seemingly innocent question, Jean begins to panic. He can't find the words he needs. He can't organize his scattered thoughts. He just needs to find the right words but they're not there, they're just  _not there._

“I-I-I-I-I,” he starts, only to shake his head in frustration, and he tries again. “I-it's it's it's just- it's just- ju-ju-j-j-j-j-just-” Jean shoves a hand through his hair, roughly tugging at the strands and he squeezes his eyes shut, wishing with all his might that he could just disappear. But, then there's a hand lightly, touching his shoulder and another gently cupping his cheek. And when Jean feels the warm press of soft lips on his own, he forgets to count the seconds that tick by.

The kiss doesn't last long before Marco is pulling away and smiling brightly. “It's okay, Jean,” he speaks softly, “you can count my freckles whenever you want.”

 

 


End file.
